Tales from Their World
by Dyneya Clovenhoof
Summary: A collection of my Don't Starve short stories. Will be mostly pairings, starting with Maxwell/Charlie, but will grow as I add more.
1. Encroaching Night

Encroaching Night

* * *

Maxwell sat quietly at his camp fire, seated upon a log as the sun slowly began to vanish behind the horizon of the world. He was leaning forward, elbows on hisknees, and fingers woven together, resting his chin on them.

He was free now, after so long. The scientist he had tricked, Wilson, somehow made it through his trials, all five of them. Then he foolishly released him, only to replace him. But Maxwell didn't care about Wilson. No. He was more concerned with someone else. Heaving a heavy sigh he sat back, eyes turning to the fading sun.

The flaming star finally retreated, leaving a soft red glow that quickly became engulfed in the inky blackness of night. He watched it silently, contemplating how his assistant was waking.

How long had he been free now? A few weeks? He had a decent set up. A fire pit, a crock pot, chests full of supplies, and even a tent so he wouldn't have to ruin his dapper suit sleeping in the mud. He even managed to cobble together some bee boxes, so he could cook with something a bit more dignified than lowly berries. But what was the point of all this? Was he just going to keep up this mundane and pathetic routine of foraging what he could and scraping by in this natural hell?

The man was brought out of his thoughts as he felt the cool night air tickle the back of his neck. The fire was waning. The air was still. There were no sounds other than the soft crackling of his fire pit.

He looked out and saw Charlie staring back at him. Her white eyes blinking through the dark, watching him like a feral dog ready to strike. He had tried many a time to speak to her, to try and bring her back. He tried everything he could think of. He tried words, gifts, even magic tricks, anything that might draw her memory, but nothing had worked. He spoke to her every night though, and still performed a trick or two, just to show her he wasn't too rusty. He would never admit it, but he always had a bit of hope it would awaken her still.

"I missed you during the day Charlie" Maxwell spoke softly, only to receive silence. He looked back at the flames a moment, the darkness slowly creeping closer as the fire greedily lapped at the charred logs within.

As the night encroached Charlie slowly walked closer, waiting just outside of the flames glow. Heaving a heavy sigh he looked back up at her, only a few feet away now. He desperately wanted to get up and embrace the woman, whom he loved with all his heart, and beg her forgiveness. He wanted to tear away the curse he had lain on her, and bring back that glowing smile. The same smile that'd greet him whenever they captivated audiences, whenever they were together, whenever she said 'I love you' and when he would repeat it back.

He stood up and dusted himself off, straightening out his suit meticulously before stepping around the dying fire pit to face Charlie. His fingers itched to reach out and touch her.

The two stood on either side of the line of light, staring at one another. As he drew in a deep breath, the fire finally withered and died, plunging them into darkness. Quick as lighting his arms shot out, grabbing the woman and pulling her close.

"I'm so sorry Charlie." And she was upon him.


	2. Promise

"Dinner!" Wigfrid's voice boomed, alerting her newest, and admittedly oddest companion.

Spider legs perked at the call of supper being ready. Turning to his friends, Webber patted each spider on the head, beaming happily at them. "We'll be back later, it's supper time!" he said before rushing off back towards camp.

The boy came running up to Wigfrid, nearly tripping over his own feet in his excitement as he ran up. "What's for supper big sis?!" he chimed, furry fingers grabbing the edge of the crock pot's lid, trying to sneak a peek before he squeaked in surprise, the Viking woman pressing the top shut.

"Patience böy!" Wigfrid said, pouting her lip as she looked down at the spider child. "Get söme böwls and we'll have öur glöriöus feast!"

She watched silently as he ran over to a chest, fishing out two crudely carved wooden bowls. For nearly a week now the two were living together, and as odd as this whole place and situation were, this child still baffled her. With her dedication to her role, she hunted daily, and on a typical outing she'd slaughter several spiders (among other things), but to her surprise she had found a child's skull among their crushed exoskeletons.

It saddened her to see the tall man pulling children into this wilderness hell too. The least she could have done was give the child a proper burial. Ever since then, she'd had a new companion, who was just as clingy at times as the silk on his face.

Webber held up the bowls as Wigfrid pulled the lid off, pouring a helping of meaty stew into each, the spider child licking his lips at the aroma that quickly filled the air. With both bowls in hand he ran over to fire pit and sat down, waiting patiently as Wigfrid got a camp fire going. It was routine at this point.

"Back at home, mum would make this every Sunday!" he hummed, offering Wigfrid her bowl once she was finished bringing the fire back to life. She plopped down on the log next to him, setting her helmet aside and took her meal. He sure was a chatty, upbeat boy for being consumed by a spider.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sound of the fire crackling and the distance moos of the snoring beefalo. The Viking warrior ate another spoonful before pausing, picking up a new sound. She looked to Webber, surprised to see his head low, furry shoulders sagging, and sniffling softly. "What's wröng?" she asked, accent nearly dropping in concern.

"I miss my mum and dad" Webber said in a small voice, referring to himself in the rare singular.

Wigfrid hesitated. A mighty warrior shouldn't be swayed by tears, but a child was still a child, no matter how odd. She set her bowl beside her helm and reached out, pulling Webber to her chest, hugging him tight.

"Dön't worry child… I swear we'll get öut öf here." Wigfrid said softly, reaching up to pet his fuzzy head as he hugged onto her, hiding his face in her chest.

"Promise?" Webber whimpered after a minute or two.

"Prömise" Wigfrid replied without the slightest hint of hesitation.


	3. Bonfire Night

He had been at this for over an hour now… Well, both he and Willow.

Wendy sat with Abigail on a log, the two just watching the madness before them with mild curiosity. At some point she had asked what in the world they were doing, running about gathering massive amount of wood and straw, and having Mister Wilson help them make some of it into the shape of a man, very much like his meat effigies. Webber had replied with "It's Guy Fawkes Night!" which only left her more puzzled.

Wilson walked over to the girl, Abigail looking up curiously as he handed Wendy a crude stone plate of meatballs. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't quite get it either. But they seem to be enjoying themselves."

The only reply he got was Wendy taking the plate with a grunt.

Webber paused his frantic collection of logs and goodies from their chests to look at Wendy, smiling wide. "Guy Fawkes was a bad man who lived a looong time ago! Mum says he tried to blow up the old king of England with gunpowder, but was found out and failed! Every November fifth we celebrate his failure with fireworks and bon fires!"

Wilson and Wendy now understood why Willow was so gung-ho about this.

"It was the best holiday back at home! Think of your Fourth of July" Willow said as she tossed some straw on a massive pile of logs, grinning wide as she whipped out her trusty lighter. In mere moments the bon fire was roaring, Wilson wincing at the heat it threw off.

"Miss Willow?" Webber hummed, the woman having to tear her eyes from the fire. "Can you put the effigy in the fire?"

Smiling wide she grabbed the hastily made effigy and stuck it in the fire, giggling with glee as the flames began to lick at the logs. "Perfect!"

Wendy still sat, puzzled. "So this is a holiday in which a man attempted to assassinate the king through explosives, failed, and hundreds of years later, you celebrate his humiliation with fires, and burning wooden depictions of him?"

"Pretty much!" The spider child grinned, plopping down on the other side of Wendy.

Willow grinned wide and grabbed Wilson's hand, the other snatching his meatballs away and setting them down. "Ah! Miss Willow-!" he yelped. She dragged the scientist towards the bonfire, gripping his hands with a wide smile as she began to sing.

"The fifth of November, since I can remember, was Guy Fawk, poke him in the eye!"

Webber grinned, spider legs perking at the familiar tune. He began to clap and sing along as the fire starter started to dance with Wilson, making the man blush, but laugh.

"Shove him up the chimney-pot, and there let him die! A stick and a stake, for King George's sake, if you don't give me one, I'll take two!"

Wendy had to admit, she liked the lyrics. She took another bite of her food, watching Willow dance with Wilson, who kept practically stumbling over his own feet before pausing as a hand was held out to her.

Webber smiled wide, smiling shyly. "Will you dance with us Wendy?"

She paused, staring at his fuzzy hand. After a moment of consideration she smiled a little and set her plate down. "Sure."

His grin nearly overtook his face as he stood up, pulling her with him. They ran over next to the adults, laughing as they began to dance.

"The better for me, and the worse for you, ricket-a-racket your hedges shall go!"


	4. Dead Inside

Four days.

It had been four days since Abigail had vanished after a rather nasty encounter with some hounds.

Wendy sat on a small tree stump away from their base, not really in the mood to deal with people. Living people, anyway. In her hands was her sister's flower, floating slightly over her palms, pale, and closed, indicating Abigail was in a faraway place. She sighed softly, just staring down at it with an expressionless gaze.

With a happy whistle and a bounce in his step Webber walked through the woods, spider limbs bobbing as he went along. His backpack was near bursting, filled to the brim with butterflies, having been catching as many as he could for some experiment Wilson wanted to perform.

The spider boy paused mid-step and looked out, catching sight of Wendy in the distance, sitting, unmoving. Tilting his head and pursing his lips he slowly walked over, eyes wide and curious.

"Wendy? Are you alright?" he asked, setting his backpack down and getting on his knees, trying to get her to look at him.

The girl slowly looked up, blinking at Webber before returning her gaze to the flower.

Webber frowned and whispered "Wendy...?"

She sighed and brushed the flower with her thumb, watching it bob a little, but doing nothing more. She knew he meant well, but she was nowhere near as... open... as he could be.

"If you're feeling sad, we could always go-"

"I feel dead inside." Wendy stated.

Webber was silent a moment, spider legs twitching as he thought. Before Wendy could even process what was happening he gently pushed her hands apart and scooted a bit closer, leaning in to place the side of his head against her chest.

She was frozen. What in the world was Webber doing?! She blinked, unsure what to do.

A soft hum came from Webber, closing his largest eyes as the smaller ones blinked slowly. After a minute he opened them, looking up.

"You don't sound dead inside, Wendy" he said with a smile, listening to the steady beat of her heart.

Wendy stayed motionless for a moment before the smallest of smiles could be seen tugging on her lips. She leaned down and hugged his head, closing her eyes. The boy giggled and reached around, hugging her around the lower back, his spider legs reaching out to do the very same.

"Thank you, Webber."


	5. Phantom

"I hate this..."

Willow sat on a rickety raft in the middle of the sea, the only source of light her precious, lucky lighter. She could hear the creature lurking in the night, feel it's gaze searing into her. It grow closer and closer as the waves lapped at the pathetic excuse for a sea vessel. Soaked to the bone, hair matted to her face and neck, a violent shiver zipped through Willow's body as she let her precious flame die.

The sun was setting, casting vibrant orange and purples across the sky. A spring in his step, and a tune carrying on the wind, a rather cheerful Webber went about picking limpets off a stone at Warly's request. Something about their supper needing more flavor. He didn't understand, but he wouldn't argue with yummy cooking like his mum used to make!

As he shoved handfuls of the little mollusks into his palm frond backpack, he suddenly paused, lifting his head. Was it his imagination... or was it getting warmer?

Spider legs twitching, the boy looked around with confusion clear on his face. It was almost night, it shouldn't be getting warmer, so why was...

"Wendy!" Webber shrieked, nearly dropping his bag as he turned tail and ran.

"Webber, what are you-"

"Just look Wendy!" Webber begged as he dragged the poor girl by her wrist, a rather annoyed looking Abigail following behind.

Huffing in frustration she gazed out, seeing what had Webber in such a panic. In the middle of the sea, a darkened figure stood above the waves, a single flame flickering by its side. It simply stared at them.

"W-We found it while picking the rocks. What is it...?" the spider child whispered, hiding behind his friend, spider legs pulled in tight to his head.

Wendy was silent a moment, just observing the figure that stared back. "An omen of death. I am certain." she finally spoke up, glancing back at her sister before back to the sea. "And an prompt one at that."

The sun disappeared over the horizon, the flame vanishing as darkness engulfed the seas.

Huddled together, Webber hugged onto Wendy, her sister's light sadly not enough as a low hiss could be heard over the lazy waves. He clung tighter to his friend, starting to shake as he tensed up, waiting for the inevitable.

"Children? Est ce que tu vas bien?" A torch light washed over them.

This one is inspired by a bug I encountered early on while playing Willow when Ship Wrecked first came out. I drowned on my raft with my lighter out, only to be revived by a touch stone. When she came back her model was darker, as if forever in the dark, and had the lighter light following her, even without it equipped. I dubbed her Fire Phantom Willow, and like to think she haunts the sea.


	6. Surrender

Although this is shorter than my normal shorts, and really take, death warning in this one, just to be safe. This was a prompt given to me.

* * *

He gave up today.

A trembling Wes sat huddled by what was a poor excuse for a fire. For weeks he had been out in this wilderness, collecting any measly supplies he could get his hands on, fighting monsters that only existed in his nightmares, and constantly on the move, looking for any place that could be remotely called safe.

With the chill of winter beating on his back, and the hollow pit that was now his stomach, Wes let out a heavy sigh. The mime was on the brink of no return. His clothes hung off his body, joints boney and painful, and for days now he had been seeing hallucinations, which didn't help the herculean task of trying to think clearly in this state. Face wincing in pain, he brought his knees to his chest and hugged them.

How, or why he was here, he had no idea, or at least he couldn't remember. Things were becoming muddled in his mind. The only real memory he could vividly recall was Maxwell greeting him when he awoke in this strange place.

Wes frowned deeply as he gazed into the fire. Today he accepted his fate. He never strayed from the fire, keeping in constantly burning from the previous night with every resource he had left. At this point the heat was the only comfort he had in this world.

Lowering his head onto his knees, a final sigh escaped his lips.

...

"Say Pal, you don't look so good."


End file.
